"Scold you?" Edith said softly. "How could I?"
"Edith, I don't know if I ever told you that Will's death left me entirely penniless."
"Penniless, Alma? Why didn't you tell me long ago. You have not wanted for anything, have you?" she asked anxiously.
"I have wanted for nothing, dear. I did not know, myself, what state my money affairs were in. George said, when they found dear Will's coat, that some valuable papers were in it which meant provision for me and Harold. He told me to leave all money matters to him and not to worry. I was glad to be relieved, and never found out until two weeks ago, that George has supported us all this time.
Edith's eyes flashed appreciation.
"How noble he is!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, indeed! When I discovered the truth, I determined to take care of Harold and myself in the future. Other women have done it, and there must be some way. But when I was most troubled, George asked me—to marry him!"
She paused a moment and dropped her eyes abashed,—as if the thought was almost an accusation to herself.
It is well that she did not see Edith's quick flush, which receding, left her paler than ever.
"I never have dreamed of marrying again. It would be impossible to ever forget Will. I meant to be true to Will's memory and live my life for Harold. But George's persuasion gained my consent. Do you think that it would be wrong to marry without the proverbial love?"